A London Monument to Equality, Inspired by an Act of Defiance

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/09/arts/samson-kambalu-antelope-sculpture.html

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LONDON — Samson Kambalu, a British multimedia artist who was born in Malawi, is asking his adoptive nation to examine an uncomfortable colonial past, along with its present, in the age of Black Lives Matter.

His is no subtle effort: “Antelope,” a towering bronze sculpture, was unveiled in late September in one of London’s most prominent showcases of contemporary art: atop a pedestal known as the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square. The work was selected by the Fourth Plinth Commissioning Group after an exhibition at the National Gallery during which more than 17,000 visitors left comments about pieces by six finalists. (The panel decided “Antelope” would go up first, followed by “850 Improntas” in 2024, a work by the Mexican artist Teresa Margolles, made with plaster casts of the faces of 850 transgender people.)

Mr. Kambalu, 46, is an associate professor at the Ruskin School of Art, part of Oxford University’s Humanities Division. He discussed how an antique photograph of John Chilembwe, a Black African revolutionary who fought against British colonialism, and John Chorley, a white British missionary and friend of Chilembwe’s, inspired his Plinth piece. Mr. Kambalu’s comments by email and telephone have been edited and condensed.

How did you come to apply for the Fourth Plinth competition?

You don’t apply for the Fourth Plinth. You are invited to propose. I was invited about three years ago.

Can you describe the process of creating this work — its materials, the time frame, the genesis of the idea?

About three years ago, I was researching a book on Malawian political history and came across a photograph that looked ordinary but had something luminous about it. Two men in hats, one white, the other African. What was the big deal here? I put the photograph as a screen saver on my phone. About that same time, the mayor’s office in London invited me to propose for the Fourth Plinth. I thought of the two men immediately.

John Chilembwe was important enough for me as an African to go on the Fourth Plinth. I wasn’t too sure about John Chorley, the white man. I began to research the photograph. I was trying to find a hat like the one that Chilembwe was wearing — I’ve always been sort of a dandy: I like a hat — but I couldn’t find one, shopping around London. That’s when I realized he was wearing his hat sideways. From that moment, my focus was on the hats.

Why were the hats significant?

It turned out that in the early 20th century, Africans were forbidden to wear hats in front of white people, and that this photograph was actually an act of defiance. Chilembwe distributed this photograph among his followers to encourage them to consider themselves equal to white people. He was killed months later, fighting such injustices. Chorley deserved his place on the Fourth Plinth because he was standing supporting his friend in the fight for equality and justice. But there was still more to do to translate this photograph into a plausible 3-D sculpture.

Is that where your multimedia experience came into play?

Yes. I decided to translate the photograph using the logic of film, using a lot of the same techniques I use in filmmaking: projection, scanning, etc.

You also teach at Oxford. What do today’s art students want to learn?

I think they want to learn alternative ways of looking at the world.

What do you think they need to learn?

That today, art exists beyond representation. Today, art is the move you make within everyday life.

So why did you name your Plinth sculpture “Antelope”?

One morning, in a semi-sleep mode around 4 a.m., I saw Chilembwe rise and tower over Chorley. He rose with the mass of an antelope, or a horse. The name John Chilembwe means antelope. It alludes to the Chewa people of Malawi and their antelope mask, the Kasiya Maliro, which is worn during ritual dances. Two years later, my proposal was selected. By then, George Floyd’s death and the Black Lives Matter protest movement had happened.

So how does it feel to have a work on display in Trafalgar Square, traditionally a site of celebrations but also of sometimes-violent political and social protests?

It feels inevitable. I think Chilembwe is a man of the moment, looking at the ongoing fight for equality. Who gets to wear a hat is still a question that concerns us now.

How do you view Chilembwe’s contribution to African independence movements?

Chilembwe is an African hero for standing up for equality, even when all the odds were against him. He’s a good example of self-sacrifice. Not only important to Malawi for his willingness to fight for equality but also for his cosmopolitanism, stepping into the future as a modern African, taking with him aspects of his African heritage. He was the first Malawian to resist colonialism beyond tribal lines. John Chilembwe Day is still celebrated in Malawi. He still appears on our currency.

Both you and Chilembwe have spent time in the United States — he in 1897 to study theology in Virginia where he learned about men like John Brown, Booker T. Washington and Frederick Douglass, and you’ve had research grants at the Yale Center for British Art and the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of African Art. Do you think you had any similar experiences in America?

Of course I did, unfortunately. These issues all linger. I found America a very precarious place for a Black person. I felt like I needed money. I didn’t think there was any protection for me unless I had money. In Europe, you still get respect and dignity even if you don’t have money. In America, I felt exposed.

You’ve described “Antelope” and its appearance on the Plinth as a litmus test for how much you belong as a cosmopolitan African. Have you felt like you didn’t belong?

After the Fourth Plinth, I feel a certain sense of belonging.